Damned, but she’d about given up trying to read Cerric. He had in impossible way about him, an unhinged sort of charisma that inclined her to believe him, at the same time that it cast the shadow of doubt on his every word. For some, sincerity was the cost for sincerity, but he seemed to only pay in halves—which was fair, for she’d tried to cheat him on the deal herself. To be entirely honest, the thought of what his true sincerity might entail disturbed her.
“I suspect we could fill libraries with the things he knows that we don’t,” she replied to Kyreth just as quietly. “For now, I’m choosing to believe that works in our favor, or it least in our client’s.”
She stood aside from the wagon with him, nodding a greeting to Eila. She allowed herself a small amount of pity for the woman, strictly on account of her inexplicable kindness towards Kyreth the other day. Technically Cerric’s warnings were right, but she suspected his dressing down of Eila was meant more as a message to the lot of them. Professionalism was expected, standards were paramount.
“Wait, Lilann, where’s your bag?”
Shit.
“Shit.” She flipped hopelessly through her satchel, as if ten days’ worth of rations might be hiding beneath the whittling knife. Dammit all, she’d lost so much time yesterday, and that infuriatingly cryptic dream had occupied her mind all morning.
“Looks like I’ll be sampling the flavors of the Finnagund wilds,” she said, trying not to sound as dejected as she felt. Hunting would be more than a little difficult, considering she’d lost her sword. She’d foraged before, on the longer and less fortunate journeys back in Dranir, but most of her life had been spent earning her food through performance. Somehow, she doubted the woods would trade game for tavern gossip. “I’ll try to keep away from mushrooms, but if I start hallucinating, Kyreth, do make sure I don’t embarrass myself.”
As if fate meant to mock her, the brute’s voice invaded her mind and there was a quiet jolt from Lilann as she strangled a yelp to death beneath her mask. His warning not to look around came too late, but with her face hidden she was at least subtle about it. A knot formed in her gut at what he told them. She wanted to scream at him, say: I saw it! but she kept herself calm. Hopefully they would have a chance to convene before the storm—and whatever might be dwelling within it—were upon them.
“Kyreth,” she spoke softly, keeping up beside him. “That’s it. That’ll be the beast.”
She fished through her satchel once more, and though she still found nothing behind the little knife, she plucked it up anyway and slid it into her belt. A sword it was not, but it was better than nothing.
Murasame had agreed to help her, which was good because he’d almost offered a reasonable solution before that. Instead, they were going to do things the right way. The stealth way. As he placed himself broadly between her and Izuna’s group, she blinked, trying to piece together their strategy.
“Just try an' keep up with my pace, okay? I ain't gonna be able to see ya while I'm going.”
His words were like WB40 to the gears of her mind; suddenly everything was buttery smooth. She aligned herself behind him, bouncing on the balls of her feet until, finally, he started to move. Holding the WcDenji’s bag close to her chest, she brought her shoulders in to make herself as small of a target as possible. But that wouldn’t account for the gap left by each big-ol’-boy step he took.
No problem. She could keep up.
Saika mimed him, though her comparative size necessitated…exaggeration. Her leg came up almost past her hip, so that her foot could stay behind his. She stood bow-legged until he slid back to full height, where she did the same. Then again, and again, raising a leg up and bringing it down like a sumo ritual.
With the combined efforts of their subtlety, they crossed the courtyard entirely inconspicuous. They might as well have been invisible, like the kid from her grade school class, Donko-kun—though only his skin was invisible. She followed diligently, her very life entrusted to Murasame’s navigational abilities, and was not left wanting. Eventually they came to a doorway leading inside, and she tapped him on the back.
“I’m in,” she whispered, in as low and cool a voice as she could muster as she backed through the entrance. Just for good measure, she checked around the hallway. Students aplenty, but no Izuna—her clothes were safe. “Clear. Form up.”
When the doors shut behind Murasame, Saika had to restrain herself from leaping up, shouting, and pounding his shoulder in joy. She settled for an enthusiastic hiss, and a very energetic fist pump.
“My man! You are one smooth fuckin’ operator. I owe you one, don’t lemme forget.” She looked down the hallway, towards where most of the students seemed to be funneling. Auditorium, had to be. “Guess we can just follow them in, huh? Hope it doesn’t drag on too long, I’m ready to see what kinda rooms we’re livin’ in.”
She started off, spinning around again so she could face him while she walked. “My bet’s, like, some kinda closet, with a tiny bed, paper sheets. Windows with bars. Maybe a toilet, if we’re lucky.”
Seele couldn’t help the heavy breath of relief, or the way her whole body slumped as if she’d just cast off a tremendous weight. She wasn’t good with being on the wrong side of the law, always one to stick closely to the rules—even in video games. As a kid, her friends forbid her from being their driver in anything with a car, because she always stopped at red lights and crosswalks. Though she had never had to talk her way out of virtual jail before. Beginner’s luck, perhaps.
Either way—no jail, and it seemed their investigation had Lendie’s support in some fashion or another. She gratefully took the stone from her marveling at her for just a moment before she remembered herself.
“Thank you, captain, sincerely,” she said, bowing low. “I promise you, you won’t regret this.”
Part of her felt it wasn’t enough to repay the leniency they’d been given, but she knew better than to push her luck, and Lendie did not seem the kind to respond well to perceived obsequiousness. So, she pocketed the stone, bowed again, and started back towards the others, stopping only the fix the captain with a bold look.
“We’re going to find those people,” she said.
Graves was being seen to by a healer. He seemed lucid, or at the very least awake, and though she had much to say to him, that absolute last thing she wanted right now was to interfere with him getting better. Instead she shuffled over to their newcomer, the archer, Artemis.
Seele had not been deaf to the girl’s breakdown during the ordeal—though she had at the end been blinded, just a smidgen.
“Sweetheart?” She smiled softly, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The girl had a nasty red mark on her face. “It’s okay, we’re all done here. Why don’t we get back inside? Maybe get some ice for that cheek, hm?”
Pressing into the courtyard, Saika took stock of the gathered horde. Tons of kids, more than she could count—or could be asked to, anyway—in every flavor of freak and geek you could ask for. In a way, it reminded her of her old school, and frankly it wasn’t a mark in Ishin’s favor, but she couldn’t hold that against it, either.
Alright alright, enough moping. Don’t make Murasame late on the first day.
Tossing her goke, and the rest of her own bag into the trash, she started towards the main building. “M’kay, so, we’re just supposed to head into the auditorium, right? God, think they’re gonna give us some spiel ‘responsibility’ and ‘national pride’? Guess that sorta thing’s a big deal here.”
Truth be told, Saika wasn’t much of a patriot. She wasn’t out protesting in the streets or anything either, but she knew for a fact that her love for the country hadn’t been what got her in. Hell, she figured it wouldn’t be long before she got barked at for wearing a shirt with English on it, but that was nothing new.
Before she could worry over it any more, she spotted a very distinctive, very aquatic figure near the entrance. A guilty leaden ball dropped into Saika’s gut, and she quickly shimmied to Murasame’s other side, using his bulk to shield herself, albeit subtly.
“Shitshitshit, hey, buddy, hey. See that girl over there? Tall, with the hair. Looks like she’s about to turn into a fishcicle?” she said, nodding. “Great girl, like I said. Awesome, really. Thing is, I’m late, and she’s prolly been waiting out here ‘cause I forgot to text her. I got her some WcDenji’s, but I need a bit to think of what to say so I don’t get sprayed. So here’s the deal—you let me hide behind you on the way in, and I’ll introduce you later. Sound good?”
Lilann fixed Ermes with a tilt of the head and an odd look that was hidden to the world. For a moment she was at a loss—normally she was so good at reading people, but suddenly she couldn’t make heads of tails of the impish boy’s attitude. He didn’t seem as aggressively suspicious as yesterday, nor had he risen to her bait. Only a little startle, and a peculiar, off-kilter smile.
Kids.
As he went off to make his introductions, she heeded his advice, and approached Cerric at his seat. He was quite a bit higher up than she was, but even with her head craned all the way up at him, the hat stayed firmly in place. His face was as indecipherable to her as Ermes’, and she hoped that was simply because she was still on edge, and not just losing her touch. Either way, though she couldn’t pin his intentions, she knew a dishonest question when she heard one.
Goddammit, she thought. Did I somehow make an enemy of him without knowing it? Usually people are much more forward about wanting me dead.
Doing her best not to wilt under that strange gaze, she nodded. Her voice was quiet, but, she hoped, not fearful. “Mr. Liadon if I in some way offended you the other day, I do sincerely apologize,” she said, lifting her hat just enough to tip it. “Otherwise, I think I’ve come to understand why some things should remain mysteries. Doubt it’ll dissuade me from making the same mistake in the future, but regardless. If you were to pit this crew of ours against that fabled Rancor, just, say, for the sake of a story, how would you favor the odds?”
Rain preened when the mighty giant called her a “great hero”. It made her ember crackle in her chest, but not in the usual, painful way, more how thunder and lightning could set your skin prickling. She didn’t much want to go out and tear things apart anymore—well, she did, but not as much, not right now. Instead, she wanted to stay put, and try ‘beer’, and watch Quinnlash and granny beat the teeth out of each other until it stopped being funny.
Pink and blue introduced themselves though, and it only confused Rain even more. Quinnlash, Lexann, Trantascilia. None of these were words, she was certain of it. ‘Stormbrew’ at least had it partly right, but fucked if she any idea what a Loughvein or a ‘Kimna…Kimmython…’ a whatever that was, was. And those were their chosen names, too! She could tell, ‘cause there wasn’t a single number in any of them. So they’d just…what—made them up? Could you do that? Was that allowed? But you couldn’t like something made up.
Oh well, if nothing else, it reminded her not to introduce herself by her old name. She’d done that on accident on her way to Uglydein, and gotten weird looks, like they all knew she’d left that name behind.
“Rain on My Skin, Ice in My Mouth,” she said, climbing onto one of the chairs by the table, so she could shake Lexann’s hand before it was pulled away from Tranta. She could quite get her fingers around it, even with her claws, so she settled for just patting the woman’s massive hand. “Best, most awesome Hunter in Scila, and probably Assyl, too, but I haven’t seen it all yet so I still gotta make sure.”
She hopped back down again, teeth rattling in her pockets. A few spilled out to clatter on the ground, but she left them to pick up later. “Hey,” she said, looking back up to Tranta. “You said we gotta wait for Galeel, that’s the big pyromancer, right?” her lips pulled into a sharp, disgusted frown. “He’s not gonna hang out with us, is he? He’s kinda really old. And gross.”
At the appearance of the pink savior, Rain’s ember flared excitedly. They were all together. Her, and granny, and the lady who’d made the explosions, and the other lady who’d brought the giant fuckoff bird down, all of them right here in the same place—the winner’s circle. It made her giddy, eager, itchy for more. She wanted more void to tear apart, more fuel to burn and, really, more fun to have. Yeah, sure, maybe if she was being really super honest she had kind of, almost, just a little bit, nearly died. But she didn’t! And sure as anything, she knew that as long as she was still kicking, she was supposed to be killing something.
She was half-tempted to run back out into the mucky battlefield and look, but that would have meant leaving the other hunters behind and…well, it wasn’t like the void were never coming back, right? Besides, outside there was no one to appreciate how fuckin’ cool she was. She’d stay put for now—she was Uglydein’s hero after all, and heroes didn’t—
Punch granny in the face.
Rain started, and took a step back, glancing wildly between the cannoneer and the room's new white-haired floormat.
“Wuh…?”
“Goddamn, melter, but you showed some fuckin' mettle out there, didn't ya?”
Metal? Metal what? She glanced down at her claws, they were metal. These? Well, yeah, she’d shown’em to the void alright. Not as much as she wanted to, but, y’know, first time and all that. She’d show the void even more metal on the next go.
The cannoneer struck her, next. Quick hit to the shoulder, weak like the little shitlings in the pit who didn’t eat. She bristled, fingers splayed and ready to keep the woman’s grubby mitts off her stash—then remembered where she was. Right. Oof, she’d been away from home too long. And anyway, people only smiled after they took all your shit.
“Name's Quinnlash Loughvein—”
What the fuck’s a ‘Quinnlash’? she thought.
“—coming out of Midnos.”
The asshole country?
“Stay outta my way, don't fuck up, and we won't have any trouble, got it?”
Rain felt another bristling coming on. She might not have known if the woman was complimenting her before, but she sure as shit knew what a challenge sounded like. Stay out of her way? Oh, miss hoity-toity flame-shitter was gonna eat those words—sooner than later.
But not now. Granny got back up to her feet, and Rain knew the rules—Quinnlash had thrown the first punch, so granny had dibs. She also had…wow, teeth. A lot of teeth. So many that she could spit them out by the handful and still have more in her mouth than Rain’d had in her whole stash. She watched granny’s jaw blossom with edges of all shapes and sizes, and for a moment she just stood there, miming her, opening her own razor mouth in some twisted greeting. Then she noticed all the teeth on the floor, and remembered her claim.
The terms had been clear, they now belonged to her.
Rain dropped down, scooping them up one by one with glee. They were pretty, glittering—the teeth in the pit never glittered, even in torchlight—and there were so many she had to hold them in both hands. In fact, she realized, there were too many. She’d never be able to bring all these with her, let alone whatever was left to claim outside. Sure, she could leave them for now, but who was to say these pyromancers would honor her claim once she was gone?
“Hm.”
Forget the other teeth, those were stupid teeth broken off the gums of lame weaklings. These were from granny, who was not lame, and might, in fact, be cool. Not as cool as Rain was, of course, but still. All of these hunters had earned that merit, really. Perhaps it was the blood-high of her first mission, or the adrenaline of a brief and bitter brush with death, but she found a strange and unfamiliar generosity simmering within her.
Leaving the pair to squabble, she held the teeth close to her and tugged on pink’s massive sleeve, doing the same to blue while she was at it.
“Oi! You two!” she said, affecting a crude, noble lilt. “As the hero of Uglydein, I have decided to recognize your efforts in helping me protect it.”
Sifting through her bounty, she selected two sharp-but-not-too-sharp-and-not-too-big-either teeth, and handed one to each of them.
“There, you are hitherto and whereupon, henceforthly, awarded. Forever and etcetera. Praise be.” She made a vague hand gesture, like she’d seen some of the better-dressed guests back home make when they buried people. Then, she stuffed the remainder of granny’s teeth into her pockets.
“Time for beer!” she cheered, arms thrust up in victory as she turned to the pink warrior. “What’s beer!”
Seele sighed with relief as someone went to tend to Graves, and stared just a tad longer as Artemis took a…considerable moment to fully disarm herself. Huh. The girl was certainly resourceful—normally she’d have been glad for that, but right now she had to focus on more pressing matters.
Lendie demanded answers, and she paled to imagine what might happen if she didn’t give them.
“Captain, I can assure you those reports were...well, they were justifiably made, yes, but they’re also wrong. We made a scene here, absolutely, yes, undeniably, and for that I am deeply and sincerely sorry. But the only danger here was to ourselves.” She gestured back towards Graves. “This was little more than a scuffle over disagreements. The escalation was…unfortunate, but it wasn’t their fault. Magic was used, I fully admit, but it was for the sake of restraining my friend, who you can see is no threat to anyone right now.”
Frankly, she didn’t know if that was true. She didn’t want to lie to Lendie, of course, and god forbid he’d get back up to his feet and start swinging again. All she could do was hope he was down for the count, but even then, she wasn’t sure that’d be enough to assuage the captain.
“I sympathize with what you’re dealing with, here, she said. “I’ve seen it too. My…ah, people, the Wayfarers, we’ve been dreadful to this city these past weeks—some of us even before that. My friends and I, we’re trying to help. I’m sure with everything else you’ve had thrown at you, you’ve heard of the recent string of disappearances? Wayfarers and citizens alike. Well, Drox has us investigating them. We’d just finished planning when the…disagreement started. Bad, I know—but we do have a plan, and that man is crucial to it.
“Again, I am so terribly sorry for the disturbance. I’m not insisting you let us off the hook, but I am asking you, please, to give us one or two days to try and find these missing people. You have my name, my fraternity, you have all our faces—we can’t go anywhere. Once we’ve finished this investigation, we’ll march right down to the garrison and pay whatever fine, or serve whatever time you deem appropriate, but the window on this is closing and I don’t know when it will be open again.”
She breathed—gasped, nearly, for how empty her lungs were at the end. Well, Lendie had asked for an explanation, and Seele wasn’t particularly good at brevity. She only hoped what she’d given was enough, rather than too much.
Saika could see it clear as day, like it was happening right in front of her—big fuckoff shark sister, launching some snot-nosed bully onto the roof. Fuckin beautiful. Sure, it was hard to imagine anyone bullying Murasame, even if he was ‘little’, but whatever, details. She decided then that Frenzy-whoever was cool in her book. Shame she’d already graduated, but if she was out there throwing more assholes onto roofs, then oh well. Besides, Murasame wasn’t bad company either.
She dug into her WcChiken, mildly disappointed to find that “extra pickles” had evidently meant two slices as opposed to one. The devil on her shoulder whispered sweet temptations in her ear to take a few sips from the WcSwishy, but she bravely ignored it. It was part of the olive branch—even more necessary now that the WcFish was part of the equation.
He asked after her own friends, and she shrugged. “Nah, not really. Sorta the same boat as you—lotta bullying, easy target and all that,” she said through a mouthful of WcCripsy chicken. “Only really had the one friend, and she came to Ishin too. Her name’s Izuna. Great girl, cool as fuck, known her forever. Y’know, actually, you two might get along great. She’s sorta fishy—like, literally. Scales, gills, those lil’ fish-whisker things. She ain’t a giant or nothin’, but she’s good people. Reeeeeal into the hero stuff, which, y’know, can’t be a bad thing, right?”
As was the way with most meals from WcDenji’s, there was a bit of her sandwich that was just, frankly, inedible. Sometimes it was undercooked, sometimes it was overcooked. This time, she nearly bit down onto something gelatinous, and, without even looking to see what it was, wrapped it back up in its paper and tossed the little sliver of chicken into a trashcan.
“As far as new ones go, I think I’m doin’ alright. I mean, school ain’t even started yet, and I’m already having breakfast with a classmate. Shit, bet I made a friend faster than anyone else there.”
Eventually she brought them to another busy crossing, and on the other side of the street there stood a sign for Ishin Academy. She pointed excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she finished the last of her goke. “Hey, hey, lookit that! I actually knew where to go! Gotta be honest I was like sixty-forty for a bit there. You ready to make waves, big guy?”
Kyreth’s room - his own room! - was grander than he ever could have imagined. The structure itself was palatial; the door was solid, the walls were strong, and it even had two windows, one overlooking the garden and lake the other the forest. Inside, the cozy space was furnished with a desk and chair, some shelves, the locked trunk the Lord had promised, and, above all, a bed. And not just any bed; a bed with sheets and blankets, with a mattress and pillow and a frame that didn’t bow when he sat on it. A bed he didn’t need to draw straws for or fight over. Hells, the windows even had curtains. Kyreth had never stayed in such an upscale place in his life.
And not only that, but there were already some things in the room, accompanied by a note encouraging their use. On the shelves were a few books, ink and paper as the Lord had promised, and on the desk, his very own candle and flint. They were all for his studies, but still, it felt good and strange in equal measure to suddenly be possessed of more than he could fit in his pockets.
There’d also been a large drawstring sack left inside, filled with enough travel rations to last Kyreth the ten-day trip he was so wary of going on. To buy those provisions himself would have cost him nearly every copper to his name. He’d been doing his best to keep track of his debts to this place, but the sum quickly grew beyond what he could quantify; he’d have to count them all as blessings for the time being, having no other way to count them.
The cherry on top of it all was a washbasin and warm water, which Kyreth took advantage of immediately, even before he was stunned once again by someone in the House staff delivering a hot, hearty meal to his door. Kyreth could have sworn he was living in a dream, and very much didn’t want to wake up.
By the time he’d washed up, eaten, and given thanks to Selene for her boundless generosity, the sky had gone dark, and it was at that point Kyreth realized he’d yet to see Lilann. Well, it was no wonder; privacy made you miss things, it seemed.
Well, no time like the present; he needed to thank Lilann for her hand in turning his life upside down.
He crept through the Bounty House like a child up after bedtime, nervous to disturb any other residents on his way back down to the lobby. Fortunately, Lilann had found her way back up, and was resting in the common area. She must have remembered that he owed her a good story. And Hells below, did he ever have a wild tale to spin.
Even as he drew closer, it took Lilann many moments to realize he was there. She seemed distracted, with her hat doffed beside her, and her head leaned back in the seat. She was staring up at the ceiling, face pinched in thought. When she did notice him, the tension left her quickly, blinking like she’d just woken up.
“Kyreth,” she said, rising shakily from her seat and steadying herself on the arm rest. “Oof, sorry. Took a small nap and still haven’t quite come out of it.” She rubbed some of the tiredness from her eyes, then regarded him with a smile more like the ones he’d seen before. “But look at you, you’re back–and in one piece! How did your errands go?”
Kyreth moved instinctively to catch Lilann in case she fell, his concern easing (but not entirely disappearing) as she composed herself. He had to crack a ghost of a grin at her comment, nodding.
“Yeah, I’ve been back a while now - sorry I didn’t come find you sooner,” he replied. Rather than answer her question, though, he gestured to the stairs. “I have somewhere more private we can talk, if you don’t mind… I have a lot to tell you.”
He led Lilann up the stairs to the second floor, hooking a hard left at the top and showing her to the room at the very end of the hallway. He couldn’t hide his satisfaction when he pulled out his key, face painted with the grin of a child with a new toy as he unlocked the door. “Check this out.”
The door opened to a modest dormitory-style room with a bed pushed against the wall in a corner with a trunk at the foot, as well as a desk and chair complete with a set of shelves. Two windows decorated two of the walls, looking out over the bridge on one side and the garden on the other.
“They’re letting me stay here,” he explained, his voice coloured with awe. He stepped inside, gesturing for Lilann to follow him. “Can you believe it? I have so much to tell you.”
Lilann stared wide-eyed at the room, stunned for just a moment into complete silence. This wasn’t just a room, it was a room. She doubted even the ones at that hoighty-toighty inn back in town were furnished so nicely–and rightfully not, this was a lord’s estate after all.
Finally she looked back at Kyreth, and briefly wondered if she was seeing the same boy from before. He was smiling, he seemed happy, maybe even proud.
A part of her was wary. No, she couldn’t believe it, at least not normally, and she couldn’t help the way her mind bristled at the idea that something else was afoot here for someone as evidently powerful as lord Mystralath to extend such generosity to a Tainted. But it seemed today was a day for believing incredible things, so she decided, for now, to take this for what it was.
“I can tell that you do,” she said, letting herself smile like he was. “And I’m very eager to hear it.”
Kyreth wasn’t blind to Lilann’s moment of skepticism; honestly, if he was smarter, he’d have held on to his own much longer than he had. But he’d promised he would accept Selene’s gifts as they came, and if that had consequences, well, he’d know for next time.
He ushered Lilann inside, closing the door and pulling the desk chair out for himself. He’d let her sit on the bed; she might need someplace to fall over when she heard everything. “I’m still processing it myself, but - well, let me start from the beginning. Apparently I’m an aetherborn.”
He had to laugh at his own ignorance, realizing the truth was pretty clear in hindsight. “I know, seems silly now, but, well, you know, growing up where I did I would never have dreamed an aetherborn would pop up, let alone me.”
He continued fervently, telling Lilann everything from the tense first meeting with the Lord, to the proposal of apprenticeship (and the alternative of an excruciating fiery death), the ups and downs of the trip into town, and everything since. As he spoke, Kyreth was more animated than he could ever recall; he flipped between the heights of awe and gratitude and the depths of dread and apprehension like a weather vane in a storm, standing and sitting and pacing with nervous energy as he wove his tale. In a way, the news was as fresh to him as it was to Lilann; he was still coming to terms with things even as he explained them, and it wasn’t until he regaled it all to another that it all finally started to sink in.
“And… yeah, I guess I’m coming with you tomorrow,” he finally finished, falling back into his chair. He pulled his hood down at long last, locks of damp white hair flopping down over his forehead. His tail slid out limply from its hiding place around his waist, exhausted, and his eyes were focused somewhere off in the distance, his expression an unreadable mix of shock and contemplation. “Man, saying it all out loud… it sounds even crazier than it seemed.”
After a moment, he finally fixed his gaze back on Lilann, his eyes glowing with the vigor of Soft Haven’s aether, even more brightly in the gathering gloom. It was an odd contrast to the rest of his face, marred by the exhaustion of a long and harrowing day, but painted all over with wonder. “Can you believe it? I mean, is he crazy? Am I crazy?”
Admittedly, watching Kyreth so lively was more than a little amusing. She rarely saw her kind get excited about things, let alone things like this. Though, as he continued to explain his position, she felt her spirits wilt under the oppressive, ineluctable shade of cynicism. To her ears, it sounded like Mystralath was very good at explaining himself, without necessarily explaining himself. Taking Kyreth under his wing was an act of magnanimity so great that even the part of her that wanted to be happy for him just…couldn’t. No one was that generous without agenda, no one, but especially not nobility.
And as long as their employer’s name began with ‘Lord’, that’s all he’d be to her.
Blessedly—or perhaps not—she was distracted by the revelation that Kyreth would be accompanying them on their contract. Hours ago that wouldn’t have fazed her; in fact, she’d have been quite relieved to have him along, considering the rest of the company. However, having seen what she’d seen today, the idea of him being out in the woods, group or not, set a small twist in her stomach.
“I…no,” she said at last, falling back to sit on the bed. “No I don’t think you’re crazy at all—neither of you. I think Lord Mystralath knows exactly what he’s doing, and you…deserve the opportunity regardless of his intentions. I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but…well, be careful.”
For a few moments she sat, contemplating what to say, and how to say it. She had questions, plenty of questions, but where to start?
She shrugged with her lips. “Hm. So it’s fire, then? I’ve seen one or two aetherborn like that in my travels. They are…certainly a force to be reckoned with.” She smirked. “Not what I would have pictured for you—no offense.”
Kyreth smiled, but it was a strained look, his discomfort evident. “Yeah, don’t remind me,” he chuckled coldly, rubbing his face. “I used to think it was a curse - still do, honestly. That’s why I’m… certainly not very excited about accompanying you—no offense.”
He chuckled again, more sincerely this time. But his levity didn’t last long, and his face once more grew serious. “But, really… if anything happens while we’re traveling, just—give me a wide berth, okay?”
Shaking his head, he left the ‘I don’t want to burn you alive’ part unsaid. Instead, he opted to change the subject. “Anyway. I’ve been rambling enough, I think,” he proposed. “Did you come upon anything today? You were looking to learn about that… thing, right? That left the claw marks?” His nose wrinkled in discomfort.
Lilann was savvy enough to know when she’d struck a nerve, and Kyreth was particularly emotive as it was. Normally that was proof she was on the right line of questioning, but she wasn’t spinning a story about him. She didn’t need to pry, even though a part of her wanted to. It sounded like he was already quite familiar with his gifts, regardless of how he’d viewed them.
Another time, she thought.
Besides, he’d managed to turn the conversation on her when she’d been distracted. Clever boy. “Oh dear,” she said, growing a strained smile of her own. “Seems it’s my turn to sound crazy, then. Well, you might have noticed that I don’t have my sword…”
If she could have seen herself tell Kyreth about what had happened, she would have been furious. Normally her stories were bold, energetic, incorporating a variety of voices and props and aetheric trickery for spice. Here, she only sat still, hunched tiredly over her knees, like an old crone at her fireplace.
She told him about Cerric’s guidance, about the walk, and how the music had come to her again—and did he remember that music? Had he heard it? She couldn’t recall—and she didn’t even mention their duet. Instead she described that…place. The dreadfulness of it, the paleness, the stench of death that morphed into the presence of death itself. She told him about the Rancor, its hideous face and its terrible strength that she knew right away she was no match for. It had chased her madly though the colorless woods, until the music returned. Then she stopped, and strained because the closer she drew to the end the fuzzier her mind felt. Somewhat reluctantly, she told him about the figure that had rescued her, and how the world had gone pure white.
She did not tell him about the dream—she hardly knew how to approach it herself.
“Then I woke up. I was in the apothecary’s home, Agitha Hawthorne. She and her ward—little Tainted boy, can you believe that?—they were both very kind to me. Sent me on my way once I had my bearings.”
She sighed, sitting back and regarding him with a shrug. “I don’t suppose you happen to believe me, do you?”
Kyreth listened with rapt attention, gripping the side of his chair like a child listening to a ghost story. And that was what he felt like; the same deep disturbedness he saw Lilann concealing in her own eyes gripped him openly as the tale went on, his stomach turning over on itself as Lilann described her too-close brush with death.
When she finally finished, Kyreth sat mutely for a moment, stunned. The truth was, no, no he didn’t believe her - he didn’t want to. The thought of something like that lurking in walking distance from the Bounty House and its lush foliage and oblivious staff - no, that thing lived on another world, another plane of existence entirely, one Lilann clearly spun herself to frighten drunks for coin.
But he couldn’t dismiss it. Because he had heard the music - he barely remembered it, and would never have given it a second thought if not for the mention. There’d been so much on his mind the first time up this way, and with the aether buzzing his nerves and Ceolfric with a blade at his back, there’d been much more important obstacles at hand. But he had heard it, and, he realized now, he’d heard it to and from town as well. And there were other parts of her story he couldn’t deny, either.
“Moon’s Mercy…” Kyreth muttered to himself, voice full of fear and reverence as he traced a crescent on his forehead and clutched his pendant. He was too stunned to say anything more for a moment, staring at the floorboards in horrified disbelief.
Eventually, he shook his head. “No—I believe you,” he replied, still visibly shaken. “It’s… I mean, it’s insane, but last night, I…” he squeezed his eyes shut, momentarily gripped by the same potent malignance that had washed over him in the wee hours in the graveyard. “I mean, I’m sure you felt it too. Whatever left those marks was… very much real.”
He raked a hand through his hair, hooking his fingers around one of his horns. “But… h-how—you mean to tell me something like that is just out there—” he gestured to the window, now less enthused about having two of them, “—just right out there, and you can just find it, and nobody cares? How is the whole town not dead?!”
It was an odd thing for her to tell someone the truth and hope they believed it, but she relieved nonetheless. He asked her questions she didn’t know the answers to, but felt like she ought to have, and had to resist the urge to just make them up.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It wasn’t particularly talkative, and while I’m being honest, the place I found didn’t feel…right. Maybe you can’t just find it, or maybe it can’t leave—speculating is great for stories, but won’t help us much in reality.”
She shook her head, looking back up at him. “Tomorrow I’ll tell Cerric what I found—I doubt he’ll believe me, but he ought to know, anyway. I’ll tell Ceolfric too, since he seemed the most eager to find the wretched thing. Maybe he’ll have better luck. The stories make it old, Kyreth, and I can’t help wondering…well, don’t take this as a slight against our employer, but if Mystralath went out of his way to scoop you up because you might be a threat, then I’m finding it hard to believe he’s not at least aware that this creature is real.”
Kyreth nodded along, wondering the same things Lilann did and more - like how he found it hard to believe that Cerric had enough knowledge to lead her flawlessly to the monster, but not that it actually lurked where he said it would. But the mention of Lord Mystralath gave him pause.
At first, he was tempted to correct Lilann, tell her in no uncertain terms that in his state he very much was a threat, but she made an excellent point. Not only was it a good inference, but what little more he knew than she did about Mystralath seemed to support it; eccentric as he was, Kyreth doubted the Lord would hear such a story and simply brush it aside. But what did it all mean? And more importantly, would he have the guts to ask about it?
“I'm sure you're right,” he admitted. “I mean, the man is… his-- our school of aetherborn can be a force of nature, like you said. Maybe he's not worried because he knows he could be done with it with a snap of his fingers.”
But that didn't sit right, either. “Of course, that begs the question of why he hasn't just dealt with it already,” Kyreth conceded, deep in thought. “Maybe you're right, and it's not a threat unless someone goes looking for it…?”
That theory raised more questions than answers, too, and Kyreth was in no condition to contemplate. He could feel the edges of his mind straining, the fatigue from his earlier foray into aether manipulation still lingering. After a long moment, he shook his head to clear it.
“Well, I have some dealings with Cerric too - seems he's going to be supervising me so I don't… well…” he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, deciding not to finish that sentence. “Gotta say I’d rather keep on his good side, but let me know what he tells you. More importantly, I doubt any trade roads run through whatever hellscape you found, so we should be safe on our trip… right?”
Lilann nodded, though she was no more comfortable than before. Suggesting Msytralath had knowledge was a far cry from confronting him about it, which she had no intentions of doing right now–and even less did she want Kyreth to do it. Gods, he’d only just gotten such a good position, the last thing he needed right now was to have it jeopardized.
“I hope so. There are going to be quite a few of us, and I suspect Cerric is no pushover himself. Besides, now I know if anything does happen, we’ve got you!” she winked. “Like you said, a wide berth.”
Lilann rose from the bed, and this time she didn’t even wobble. She fixed Kyreth with a smile as genuine as she could muster. All told, she was happy for him. She would have preferred he kept to the relative safety of the town, or at least Mystralath’s walls, but if this was the way things were going to be…well, that wasn’t so bad.
“Alright, I should go try and get some real rest for tomorrow,” she said. “With any luck, this little journey will be over before we know it. And if we’re not lucky, well, who knows? Maybe the beastie will only eat Ceolfric.”
Kyreth cracked a guilty grin at the joke. While he worried she was making too light of the danger he posed to her and the group if something did go wrong, he had to admit that the joking did put him a little more at ease. A polished skill for sure, honed by a career of storytelling, but he appreciated it all the same.
“Good idea, I'm supposed to be taking an early night myself,” he concurred, standing up with her. However, before he opened the door for her, he had one more thing to say.
“Um, before you go…” he started hesitantly, “Listen, I can tell this whole… thing--” he gestured around at the room “--makes you a little uneasy. And, I mean, believe me, nobody is more nervous about it than me. But…”
He paused for a moment, meekly rubbing the back of his neck as he debated whether to say it or not. “...I wanted to thank you. Truly. Without you I don't think I ever would have even walked up the hill.”
Kyreth’s cheeks darkened a touch, a little embarrassed, but he pressed on all the same. “Seriously. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to call on me, okay? I owe you.”
There was something crushingly familiar to her in the way he spoke, and his meekness stoked memories that seemed as alien to her as the fog that had followed her deliverance from the Rancor. Standing there, it struck her quite suddenly that they were alien because they weren’t hers. They were Livean’s.
She struggled for a moment for a steady breath. “Hah…” she muttered, composing herself. “Well, don’t go underestimating yourself. Leave that to everyone else–trust me, feels a lot better proving other people wrong.” She patted him on the shoulder, smiled again, more naturally this time. “But if you really want to pay me back, just get through this contract in one piece, hm? Let’s start there.”
Kyreth nodded knowingly, returning Lilann’s good will with a tired smile. Whatever was behind that little falter, he wouldn't speculate; after the ordeal she'd had, she deserved more than a little deference. “Alright, it’s a deal,” he agreed, finally opening the door for her. “I’ll see you bright and early, then.”
Lilann was no stranger to nightmares, but she had never been plagued by a pleasant dream before. Yet, that night, the warmth of those unreal sands, and the awe of its towers, even the fear of their destruction—all of it set her to waking again, and again, only for her to return to it when she drifted once more.
She stood on that marble platform, reaching for a hand outstretched but never feeling their fingers touch.
She woke feeling terribly alone, and sought to remedy that at once.
The air in Soft Haven was bitter and damp. She’d spent so long under the gloomy skies of Dranir that, even though she’d seen more snow than rain in her life, she had a feeling the day wouldn’t stay as meagerly dry as it was now. Oh well, a good wash never hurt anyone—and if she was going to be sharing a convoy with the hedgeman, she’d likely be thankful for a little cleansing rain.
Donning her mask once again, she proceeded out of town to meet with their employer. She found Cerric alongside an unfamiliar woman—the client, likely. Esvelee, if memory served. Ceolfric had shown up, as well as the impish boy. And, ah, there was Kyreth. The thought of him coming along, especially after what she’d seen, still didn’t sit right with her. But she’d resolved to trust him, and if ever there was a time to stick together, it was now.
“Good morning!” she announced, voice projecting easily from beneath her mask. She nodded pleasantly to Cerric, and bowed theatrically to Esvelee, head dipping low enough that her hat nearly eclipsed her whole body. “Lady Buckman,” she greeted. “Lilann Storyborn, at your call.”
With that she went on to join Kyreth and Ermes, striking up on the former’s unoccupied side. “Good to see you. And—oh, look what the night coughed up,” she said teasingly, waggling her fingers at the shadowy boy. “Hello, Ermes. Ready for a nice trip?”
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